The first frost kissed started bounding at him like an emaciated gorilla as more arms and legs curled around ledges. Fighting one was one thing, but there were countless of them in there. It was time to run.

  Greg took off. Keeping close to the wall, he chanced a glance over his shoulder after the first few seconds. The first frost kissed was gaining on him with two more right behind it, and at least one more on the roof of the building the others emerged from. It took running leaps, using its hands and feet to spring from rooftop to rooftop.

  Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!

  Greg pulled open his character sheet again as he narrowly avoided running face first into a light pole.

  You’ve earned enough experience to progress to level two! It’s a miracle! Are you ready to level?

  Yes/No

  Yes, for God’s sake, hurry up.

  Two unspent stat points have been added to your pool (total currently four).

  Current progress to level 3 (200/2500)

  Perhaps consider leveling up your dexterity to evade your pursuers? [Fragment Surge—Error] Unless the goal is to be eaten alive by drugged up maniacs. In which case, you’re doing a marv… [Persona Contained]

  He tried to push away the message, but his focus was a little split at the moment. He dumped all four of his unspent points into dexterity. The effect was immediate and almost utterly overwhelming.

  His burning lungs stopped screaming for air. They were still working hard, but not to the point where he was concerned they would explode at any moment. From his ankles up to his hips, any joint that was feeling the pain of being an ex-athlete that took a little too much punishment a little too young…simply vanished. He wasn’t certain if he was moving any faster, but he was confident he could continue at the pace he was at for much longer.

  The frost kissed now fumbling over each other down the street in what would be the most terrifying zombie movie scene of all time, were only slowed down by their own disruption. Those that pulled to the front snarled after him, occasionally bumping one another, but otherwise continued to sprint with unnerving long strides. Never the less they grew closer, and a buzzing interference filled his ears.

  The buildings to his left suddenly ended, a wide open park taking their place. He could feel the first of the frost kissed gaining on him, but even knowing it was a terrible idea, he took a look over his shoulder. It looked like he was leading one of those Halloween marathons around the city. Hundreds of snarling blue mouths followed him, smashing into each other, jumping off of rooftops and out of windows, ricocheting off of old playground equipment.

  His head snapped forward again just in time to see a figure land in front of him in a three-point stance. Then two more.

  “Duck.”

  A hunk of earth ten feet wide rose in front of him as he dropped into a slide. His slipped beneath it even as it went rocketing at his hunters. A thick hand wrapped around his arm mid-slide and flung him up into the air and onto his back.

  “Hang on, little man.”

  He did just that.

  Greg wrapped his arms around the thick neck, legs clinging to the muscular sides as they started to move. It started as a run, only much faster than he had been moving. Then his rescuer (he hoped) jumped and hit something hard. They lurched upward. Once. Twice. Three times. Each time coming with the sounds of crumbling stone. All he could see was hair, thick multicolored curls filled his nose, eyes, and until he’d stopped screaming.

  The whole escape took less than a minute, but if it had been any longer, he was certain he would have pissed himself. Large, chalky hands patted his forearms. He’d somehow managed to not choke the person out with his deathgrip around their neck.

  “You’re good, man. They can’t get you up here.”

  Greg released his legs from the sides of the calm voice. He wobbled slightly, but found his footing well enough before letting go of their neck. The man turned around, taking a step back to give him a once over.

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  He and Greg were about the same height, both a little over six feet tall, but thats about where the similarities ended. His saviour sported an afro with streaks of bright color shooting through the dark brown. He wore an open black vest, leaving his unfairly sculpted torso bare for the world to see, and black cloth pants that looked suspiciously like the bottoms of a gi. His smile stretched up into his Gifted eyes that looked like pools of liquid mercury.

  “Thanks.” Greg gasped out, bending at the waist as he tried to catch his breath. “That was getting dicey.” The buzzing had subsided during the escape, but his head still swam.

  The man laughed and looked over his shoulder—then down. Suddenly, Greg realized where they were. The crumbling sound was the man’s hands crunching into the side of a building as he scaled it. He looked out, the bright lights of the city dancing along the taller buildings, then up. The fog cloud was right there. Greg reached up and touched it.

  His fingers swished through the soft substance. Greg had never felt pollution before, but he knew this wasn’t it. It felt clean. Pure. He got tiny shocks on his fingertips like static electricity as he moved through it. A smile stretched across his lips. Perhaps the first real smile he’d felt since showing up here.

  “If you’re good, I’m gonna go help the squad?” the man said holding up a thumb as he back toward the edge of the building.

  “Yeah!” Greg pulled his hand out of the cloud and nodded to him. “Thank you, again.”

  The man gave him a nod. “Be right back to help you down.” Then back flipped off the building.

  He moved to the edge quickly, then felt his stomach drop as he looked down and quickly took a step back. Little too high for quick movements like that. He inched his way to the edge again just in time to see Gi Pants hit the ground. The impact was enough that he felt the stone beneath him quiver. Greg sat down and slowly scooted forward, letting his legs dangle over the edge as he watched the team work.

  Gi Pants was a whirlwind of kicks and punches. It was almost too fast for him to follow. His companions were annihilating the frost kissed from range, so it was Gi Pants’ job to keep the enemy off of them. Basic MMO tactics. All they were missing was a healer.

  It was hard to tell exactly what was happening from hundreds of feet in the air, but the glowing blue heads of the frost kissed fell one by one. Soon the park below was littered with corpses, though notably none of them seemed to be burning from the inside out. Special little trick he had, apparently. Goodie.

  Quest Completed!

  Survived the frost kissed horde

  Reward:

  300 experience

  Being alive

  An arrow skidded to a stop a few feet to his right, popped into the shape of a hook, then caught on the lip of the building. Soon the heavy chunks of stone sounded as Gi Pants scaled the building with his bare hands again, the other two using the rope. Greg stood up and backed away from the edge to give them space.

  Gi Pants arrived first, dusting off his hands on said pants as a woman with silver hair pulled herself up by the rope before offering her hand to the man that had originally landed in front of him to save his ass. This must be what the kids in comics felt like when they met the superheroes.

  “You alright? How’d you get that many frosty boys chasing you?” The rock thrower asked.

  Greg tilted his head and shrugged. “I was just walking by. They all flooded out of an abandoned building.”

  “Huh.” Rock thrower shrugged and offered him his hand to shake. “Kael Vireth. This is Doran Hightide,” he indicated Gi Pants,

  “And Seraphae Lumina” He indicated the silver-haired woman, the only of the three of them that wasn’t Gifted, though she had an aura about her that made him question it.

  He shook each of their hands. “Uhh…Greg? Greg Norwood.”

  “Exotic.” Seraphae grinned at him, slipping her bow over her shoulder. Her eyes were like ice, so light blue it was difficult to tell where the iris ended. They almost reminded him of his left eye. Silver hair tied in a tight braid kept it out of her heart-shaped face. She wore armor much like Kael’s, practical leather and padding, though hers had deep blue accents where Kael’s was simple brown.

  [Fragment Surge—Error]

  DO NOT SCAN! DO NOT ENGAGE! DO NOT MAKE YOURSELF INTERESTING!

  [Persona Restricted]

  The message popped up in his vision as soon as his hand released hers. It wasn’t clean, like the other messages. The lines of the letters had deep strikes in them like some kind of interference was happening. These errors were getting more concerning every time. The sudden urge to smack the side of his head like an old television rose, but he shook it off and smiled.

  “That was amazing.” Greg said, pointing down to the park. “You guys are adventurers?”

  “We are,” Kael affirmed. “Just got back from Monarch’s forest when we saw you. Where were you going, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  Greg shrugged. “Guard Tower seventeen. I was turning in some jester rat crowns.”

  “Jester rats?” Doran clapped his hands together. “Oh man, you remember when we hunted jester rats? That one time the city let them get out of control?”

  “Nasty business.” Seraphae hadn’t looked away from him, one thin eyebrow arching up high in examination.

  “That’s beginning adventurer tasks.” Kael squinted at him. “How old are you?”

  Greg breathed out a laugh and shrugged. “That’s a complicated question, actually. Two or three?”

  “You’re three years old?” Doran gave him a flat look.

  “Weeks? Three weeks old.” Greg clarified.

  There was a sudden tense silence between the four of them, the party from one to another, until Kael burst into uncontrollable laughter.

  “Weeks!” he held his sides as the others started to laugh with him. “Oh man, I like you, Greg.” Kael said after regaining his composure. “Let us escort you back to the guard tower before we head out.”